


now you don't

by loganxiety (meathermac)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by Now You See Me, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meathermac/pseuds/loganxiety
Summary: roman atlas.logan mckinney.virgil may reeves.patton wilder.they are the greatest magicians of all time, also known as the Four Horsemen.trapped in a standoff against the FBI, they race against the law to finally set some damn things right.





	1. to start off

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT I DID IT
> 
> crossposted to tumblr (@adultmorelikeadolt)

_ Come in close.  _

_ Closer.  _

_ Because the more you think you see, the easier it’ll be to fool you. _

Roman Atlas smirked as he held the cards out in front of him, winking at the gorgeous blonde in front of him. “I’m going to flip through this deck, and you’re going to see one card. I promise.”

She smiled back at him, nodding - of course, Roman knew which card she was gonna see, this is all too easy and of course, she was an amateur and he was the best street magician in years.

He closed his eyes for a bit, pretending to think about the cards. When he was finished, Roman flicked his wrist, quickly fanning the cards out in front of him. “Do you see your card?” 

Shaking her head, she batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.  “No,” she said, still smiling. 

Roman grinned. “Then I guess we’ll have to remedy that,” he replied, throwing the cards into the air. The motion directed the audience’s eyes towards the nearby building and they gasped in awe as the side of the building lit up, revealing her card -  _ seven of diamonds.  _

They all clapped enthusiastically, cheering and whooping for the magic. Roman reveled in it - of course he did, they were clapping and cheering for  _ him _ , he made that happen, even if it was as simple as simple gets. They were smiling because of him. 

Somewhere else, at the same moment, Logan McKinney was having a great day. 

He had already made 500 dollars that day, tricking businessmen into believing he was their new business partner and nicking the cash off of them, but it was the cheating husbands who really brought in the money. 

“And  _ sleep _ ,” he said, bringing the woman’s head to his shoulder. “And… back awake.” Logan snapped his fingers and the woman jolted up. 

He held up a twenty dollar bill. “If you can take this out of my hands, you can have it.” She reached forward but couldn’t grab it, as her fingers were laced together, unable to move. She laughed and Logan grinned back at her, pocketing the twenty dollars. “Alright, I’ll make it easier on you. Just tell me your name,” he teased, watching her struggle to even get the words out. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll set you right in a minute, but right now I think it’s your husband’s turn…” Logan turned to the man. “Let’s see what I can discover.”

The man waved his hands in front of his face. “I - I - that’s unnecessary, sir - “

“No, no, I think you’ll find it’s quite necessary - well, for me, of course - but really, the chance you’ll die from mentalism is infinitesimal, so don’t worry…” He laughed. “Anyways,” Logan continued, staring into his mark’s eyes, “I see… a beach? In… Florida?”

The man tried to look away from Logan’s eyes as he muttered, clearly embarrassed, “It was a business trip.”

Logan tilted his head to the side. “I mean, yes, technically it’s business… What’s her name?” He began listing off letters, stopping when the man jerked ever so slightly backward at “J”. Smirking, Logan turned to the side and started to pace. “J, huh? Maybe Jean, Jane, Janet -” 

The man made another jerking motion. 

“Janet? Who’s Janet?” Logan glanced over to the man’s wife, who was, through gritted teeth, mumbling something that sounded like “sister”. “Your sister? That’s quite the affair, my friend.”

He sighed. “Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but - “

“But I can make it all go away!” Logan gave the man a lopsided smile. “For the low, low fee of… oh, let’s make it 300.” 

“Dollars?” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I know all your secrets. I know things you haven’t even thought about in years… so yeah, let’s make it 350 for my troubles. And,” he drawled, “as the icing on the cake, let’s fix this whole debacle. Every time you think of Janet,” he placed a hand on the man’s head, “you will think of me. Hopefully, that should be enough.” 

He backed up, putting the 350 dollars in his pocket, and snapped his fingers. The woman’s head jerked up, confused. Logan smiled apologetically at her and said, “I guess you just can’t be hypnotised. I’m sorry, ma’am, it just doesn’t work on some people…” he trailed off, winking at her husband. He glowered at Logan, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder as they walked away. 

On a boat in New York City, Patton Wilder was about to lose a lot of money.

Of course, they were going to get it back, but it was all in good fun, really, the loss of it. If they never lost it, someone was bound to catch on. 

They jumped up onto the front of the boat. “Hello, amazing travelers! I’ve got a simple magic trick for you - simple for me, not simple for you, of course - and if you can figure out how I’ve done it, I’ll give you 100 dollars. Promise.” 

The crowd murmured amongst themselves as Patton smiled to themself, pulling a spoon out of their pocket. “I am going to bend this spoon with my mind!” they yelled, causing the crowd to cheer. 

They brought their hand up to the side, pretending to force it to bend as they twisted the stem between their fingers. 

The crowd cheered, and Patton smiled, basking in it until some guy in a beanie with tastefully expensive glasses walked up and grabbed the spoon out of his hand, showing the rest of the people gathered on the boat the obvious falsity of the trick. He turned to the crowd, waving Patton’s spoon around. “It’s fake!” The man spun back around, holding out his hand. “I believe you owe me some money?”

Patton raised an eyebrow, handing over the hundred dollars - and slyly undoing his watch as they did. “A promise is a promise,” they said, patting the man on the back as they reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. They then nodded to their victim and walked off, speeding up once they were out of the man’s sight. 

As Patton jumped off the boat back onto the dock, they heard their mark yell out, “That man! He stole my wallet!” 

Patton turned around, affronted. “How dare you assume I’m a man, sir?” they called, giggling as they ran off yet again, enjoying the cacophony raised behind them. 

And in a Las Vegas nightclub, Virgil May Reeves was about to die. 

Well, only for about ten seconds. But still. Dead. 

He hopped up on the third tier of the stage, waving to the audience. “You’ve been so good to me tonight, I don’t know how I can leave!” he called, as they whooped and cheered for him. “Alright, alright. I’ve got one last trick. I’m gonna jump in this tank, save myself, and if I can’t get out in 60 seconds, well, the piranhas will take care of me.” He gestured to the giant cage above him as the crowd gasped. 

“Well, let’s get me chained up, shall we? A man’s gotta have his handcuffs, trust me,” Virgil said, winking. “Now, come on, this is getting boring. We’ve got death to defy, people!” 

He smiled out at the crowd and shimmied his hips a bit before the platform dropped out from underneath him and he was plunged into the water below. 

Virgil made a show of undoing the first handcuff before he dove to the bottom to try and pull out the locks. As he realized he couldn't undo it, hr started banging on the glass, screaming for help. The crowd tried to help, but the shatterproof glass refused to break.

As the seconds ticked down, Virgil finally managed to get the locks dislodged from the grate and kicked off the bottom, only for the piranhas to drop right as he breached the surface of the water.  

People screamed as the water turned red, Virgil's body disappearing out of view. The panic continued until someone in the back yelled out, "This is crazy! What kind of sick sadist invented this?", then burst into laughter as the crowd parted around them to reveal Virgil himself. He grinned widely, giving the crowd around him high-fives. 

It was only a few minutes after each of those tricks where each and every one of our four heroes pulled out a tarot card, seemingly from a place no man should ever have been able to reach. 

Roman’s, hidden in the book bag he’d left in his apartment, bore the symbol of the  _ Lovers.  _

Logan’s, laying on top of the table next to him, the table he’d been staring at as he packed up his stuff, bore the symbol of the  _ Hermit.  _

Patton’s, stuffed in the man’s wallet they had just stolen, the wallet which had been in their back pocket, bore the symbol of  _ Death.  _

And Virgil’s, floating in the tank he had just escaped from, amongst the piranhas, bore the symbol of the  _ High Priestess.  _

Each and every one of them had an eye on the back, with a date, time, and address. 

_ March 29th, 4:44 PM, 45 East Thomas St, NY, NY.  _

So come March 29th, at 4:43 PM, on the curb outside 45 East Thomas St, on the outskirts of Manhattan, Virgil was staring up at the building with a coffee clutched in his hand, when he heard someone call his name from behind him. 

“Hey! Virgil!” 

Virgil turned around to see his former boss and er, ex-boyfriend, waving at him from the cab. “Hey, Roman!” 

He held up a card. “You, uh, got one of these cards too?” 

“Uh, yeah, I did,” Virgil replied, before turning around and heading up the stairs. 

“So, Virgil, what have you been up to these days?” Roman asked, following him into the building. “I - I haven’t seen you since -” 

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Cut the crap, Roman, I’ve seen your anonymous posting on my website. You’re not sly, or clever, or anything.”

He huffed. “I didn’t even know you had a website, but good, that’s good for you.”

“Oh, shut up -” 

Their bickering continued as they walked up the stairs, only stopped when they saw Logan, leaning against the door to Number 45. 

Logan bit his lip. “Oh. So… I guess I’m not the only one who got one of these cards? Well, let me be the first to say that I am wholly disappointed.” He smiled a bit, looking at the two other magicians standing in the hallway. “Wait, before you tell me your names… Victor? Virgil?” 

Virgil nodded, looking slightly amazed. Roman scoffed. “Virge, it’s on your coffee cup. Nice trick, man.”

“Thanks for keeping me honest. That wasn’t mentalism, just an observation…”

Roman crossed his arms. “I know who you are, McKinney, and I’m not interested in your, uh, mind games,” he said, and Logan simply laughed, waving his hands around as Virgil stifled a giggle in the background. However, they all stopped when the fourth member of their motley crew bounded up the stairs, gasping in awe when they saw the three others gathered in front of the door. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re Roman Atlas! And - and you’re Logan McKinney! And oh god, Virgil May Reeves, oh, you guys are so awesome!” they gushed, beaming, nearly jumping up and down. 

Logan raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. “And you are?”

“I’m Patton Wilder! I - I’m the nonbinary criminal? I do some stuff on the docks, a little bit of pickpocketing but only a little!” They shrugged. “I got one of the tarot cards too, don’t worry.”

“My ego has been utterly shattered,” Logan muttered. “What’s to say they just let in any off the street criminal now?” 

“I’m not some two-bit thug, McKinney,” Patton scowled, though it quickly turned into a wide smile. “I’m your new best friend!” 

“Yeah… no.” 

Patton shook their head. “Just you wait. Anyways, why are we all standing out here? If I remember correctly, the card didn’t say to stand outside the apartment…”

Virgil snorted. “Okay, smartass, it didn’t. But the door’s locked.”

“Oh, no, nothing’s ever locked,” they responded, pulling a long metal rod out of their pocket and deftly unlocking the door and pushing it open. “See?’

“You, my friend, are  _ más de lo que parece _ ,” Roman acquiesced, smiling, not too bothered about whether Patton understood the Spanish or not. “Let’s go, then.” 

They walked into the apartment, each with their flashlights on as they poked around the apartment. 

“God, this place makes my apartment look nice,” Logan mumbled as he shone his light on a very filthy bathroom. “Why the hell are we here?” 

“Because of this,” said Virgil, pointing at the ground, where a strange shape was carved into it, and a rose was sitting next to a pitcher. He picked the rose up gingerly and placed it in the pitcher, and all of a sudden the water started pouring out of it, filling the symbol on the floor with it. 

And once it was full, the symbol dropped into the floor, turning into a gas that poured out of it, twisting in between each of the crew’s ankles, enveloping the room. Each and every one of them looked on in awe, perplexed by the whole thing, really. 

“Atlas, grab the lights!” Virgil called, backing up towards the wall. 

Roman flicked the switch up and down. “No electricity.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Logan declared, twisting the lightbulb in the light fixture above him. Suddenly, a blue hologram sprung up in the middle of the room, and the four of them crowded around it. 

Patton breathed out a soft, “Woah,” as Virgil held a hand up to it, examining the blueprints. 

“This is… amazing,” Logan said, at a loss for words. 

Roman gasped. “Guys, look… it’s a show.” 

The same symbol that was carved in the floor was flickering in the center of the hologram, underneath the words  _ The Four Horsemen.  _

**las vegas**

**one year later**

“Helloooooooo, Las Vegas! Let me hear you!” Roman yelled, the crowd cheering at the top of their lungs. 

“Okay, for our last trick tonight, we are going to do something that has never been done before on a Las Vegas stage,” Logan said as the crowd’s cheers died out. 

Virgil grinned. “We are going to rob a bank.” 

Patton held their hands up. “We’re not even kidding. But, to start off, who’s got a bank they’d like us to rob?”

Most of the crowd raised their hands, causing Roman to laugh and say, “Well, that’s a lot of people with a vendetta. Just to keep it truly random, we’ll have you guys pick the seat number of the person whose bank we’re going to rob for us. Now, Pat, which bowl do you have?”

They raised the bowl of ping pong balls into the air. “I’ve got sections! You, sir, in the front, would you grab one for me?”

The person they held the bowl out to handed Patton the ball and they threw it to Roman, who was standing in the center of the raised platform. He caught it and yelled out, “We’ve got Section B!” 

The section in question cheered, and Virgil smiled as he bent down and offered his bowl, containing row numbers to the person in front of him. “Atlas, catch!” 

Roman snickered as he caught it. “Looks like we’ve got… Row 5! Row 5, Section B, raise your hands.”

They did so as Logan made his way over to the person closest to him with his bowl, which contained the seat numbers. He then threw his audience selection over to Roman, who called out, “Seat 13! Section B, Row 5, Seat 13! Stand up!” 

A man stood up, and the attendant handed him the microphone. “That’s me.” 

“And what is your name, sir?”

“Etienne Personnage.” 

“And your bank?”

“Credit Republicain de Paris.” 

Roman blinked. “Oh. French. Honestly, we were hoping for something a little more local, but that’s okay, that’s okay. Well, Etienne, come up here onstage.”

“And while Etienne makes his way up onstage, we’re going to recognize the woman who put us up on stage today - Miss Ira Apellido, and her wife, of course. Three cheers for them!” Logan called, and the audience whooped as a woman in her late fifties stood up. 

Virgil raised his hands, hoping to get the audience to settle down. “ First, we need you to pick a card, any card, well, okay, not that card. Sorry, American joke… yeah, that one. Can you sign it for us? Preferably in English.” Etienne scribbled his name on the card, and Virgil smiled. “Okay, okay, now for the real trick. Etienne, here is this magic thing we in the magic business call a teleportation helmet. It’s quite stylish, no?” He laughed as he handed it to Etienne. 

“And as for the teleportation device itself…” Pattom smirked, throwing three large black silk sheets out into the center of the stage. They twirled around in the center for a bit before shooting off into the audience, revealing a large metal contraption in the middle of the stage. “Etienne, if you could just be a dear and step into the center of this device… thanks. Now, can we get a countdown?”

The audience counted down from 5, and then Virgil pulled down a lever on the side of the contraption and Etienne vanished. There were gasps from all over the room as a screen lit up on the side of the room, showing Etienne within a bank vault. 

“Holy shit, it worked!” Roman cried. “Okay, Etienne, does this look like your bank vault?”

The man onscreen nodded, seeming amazed at the stacks of euros in front of him.

“Good, good. Now, can you take that card and the ticket from tonight’s show and put it in the center of the stacks? And then sit back and relax,” Roman said, grinning. 

Patton nodded. “Just watch out for the vacuum.”

Etienne looked momentarily confused, and then dropped the two pieces of paper into the center of the stacks as the money was suddenly sucked up into the vents above the vault. 

“Goddamn, guys, would you look at that! Now, Etienne, if you press the button on the side of your helmet, you should teleport right back up here onto the platform and then you can watch it rain,” Virgil assured him. “Now, to our faithful audience… We are the Four Horsemen!”

And as the money began to fall from the ceiling, showering the crowd in euros, the four of them called out together, “Goodnight!” as they vanished off the stage. 

It was the next day when FBI Agent Remy Rhodes got the call that four magicians had robbed a Parisian bank from a stage in Las Vegas. 

He stormed into the office, already mad beyond belief. “What the hell do you guys mean that  _ magicians _ robbed a bank? You’re kidding!” 

Agent Stokes grimaced, fearing the aftermath of Remy’s wrath. “We’re not kidding, I’m afraid. We went to their hotel room yesterday and they simply… turned themselves in. It was quite the debacle.” 

Remy sighed, running a hand down his face. “Oh, this is ridiculous.” 

“ _ Je suis d’accord _ , Mister Rhodes. It is an interesting case,” the man who had previously been leaning against the door said. 

“Who is this, exactly?” he asked.

The man laughed. “I am Emile Dray. Interpol. I will be your partner on this case.”

“I’m not working with him,” Remy cried, “he’s pretentious! I can’t - this is my case!” 

“ _ Je vais essayer de ne pas être offensé, grand putain d'idiot, _ ” Emile muttered. “We will be working together and you will like it. Now, we ‘ave to get to interrogating, Mister Rhodes.”

Remy tried hard to suppress a shiver at the way Dray pronounced his name. “Fine. God fucking damn it,  _ fine. _ ”

He giggled, hand on the door. “That’s the spirit.” 

As the two walked into the interrogation room, McKinney immediately shot up. “Oh my god, I just got hit with the biggest wave of sexual tension.” Logan waved a hand through the air. “It’s so thick, it’s like you two just want to push each other up against the wall and -” 

“We’ll be doing the talking here, thanks,” Remy cut in smoothly, ignoring Emile’s quite obvious blush. 

“Hey, I mean, you’re going to have to talk about it at some point. I know you just met and all, but… it’s kind of ridiculous.”

“Shut up, McKinney,” he growled. 

A little bit later, once they’d decided that Logan was essentially useless to their investigation, they turned to Atlas himself. “Why’d you rob a bank?” Remy asked, rather bluntly. 

Roman shrugged. “Felt like it.” 

“That’s… not an answer,” Emile responded. 

“It’s really not, no. Well, I can’t tell you that, unfortunately. And really, you’re not going to arrest me, either.”

Remy scoffed. “And why is that?” 

“Because that would be saying that the FBI, and Interpol, too, believe, on an institutional level, in magic. And then the press would have a field day.” Roman leaned back in his chair. “So you won’t.”

Emile snorted. “You’re quite adept, Monsieur Atlas.”

“And you too, Señor Dray. Are we speaking in our first languages now? Because I’m totally down for Spanish,” Roman said. “Anyways, if this is all that’s going to happen, can I just go now? These handcuffs are super uncomfortable.”

So, of course, in about an hour, the Horsemen were walking free on the streets of Las Vegas. 

Remy was fuming on the steps of the FBI Agency when his former deskmate, Agent Stokes, walked up to him and handed him a phone. 

“Stokes, what the hell is this for?” 

“It’s on a call with Damien Bradley. He debunks magicians. And he knows  _ exactly _ how the Horsemen robbed that bank.” 


	2. and to continue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha i did it

“You’re serious?” Remy asked, amazed. “This dude knows exactly how they robbed the bank?" 

"Claims he does, at the very least." Stokes shrugged. "I've seen a couple of his shows, Rhodes. They're legit. Oh, and he's still on the call, so…" 

Remy scrambled for the phone. "Mr. Bradley?" 

"I was wondering when you were going to pick up, Mister Rhodes." He chuckled softly. “Well?” 

“Well what?” Remy questioned, curious as to what this man could possibly want.

Bradley laughed again. “Well, are you and Mr. Dray going to join me for lunch or not? Because I think at this point, if you want to know anything that I have to say you're going to have to meet me at that fantastic sushi place down on 80th.”

He sighed, giving Damien a word of affirmation before hanging up and turning back to his partner. “ I can't believe that this guy was just conveniently watching the entire time. That just doesn't seem plausible.”

“Indeed it does not, Monsieur Rhodes,” said a voice from behind him, “but, we're going to go anyway, because the chances are that even if he isn't of much help, he still knows something important.”

“No. Nu-uh. No way. I don't care if this guy has the most accurate description of what went on, I am not going there with  _ him _ .” 

Emile huffed. “But you have to. I am your... your…  _ petit ami _ \-  _ non, non pas, associé, associé - _ your  _ associé _ on this case whether you like it or not, Rhodes, and so we are both going to that lunch and we are both going to hear Damien's witness statement from that night." 

 “You, sir, are a bitch.” 

And with those final parting words, they went off to the lunch with Damien, still bickering and arguing as they went. 

“So, officers -” Damien began, stretching languidly in his seat. 

 “Not officers. Agents,” Remy corrected. 

 Damien rolled his eyes ever so slightly.“So,  _ agents _ , he said, putting specific emphasis on agents, which caused Remy to sigh in annoyance and Emile to stifle a giggle behind his hand, “are you sure you want the video of the Horseman's show?”

“Yes, it would greatly help with our investigation,” Emile said. 

“Well, unfortunately I can't just give you the video because that would not be good for my business,” Damien responded, smirking somewhat evilily, “but, I can tell you this. Have you ever heard of the famous magician Thomas Shrike?

 Emile nodded, amazed. “Why? Did he have something to do with this?”

Remy raised his hand, hoping to stop the conversation so he could ask, “Okay, excuse me if I'm about to sound like a complete idiot - “

 “Don't worry, you already do,” Damien said. 

 Remy glared at him as Emile, this time, didn't even bother to hide the giggle behind his hand.  “Can I finish my question first?” Damien nodded, still amused. “Just… who is Thomas Shrike?”

“Thomas Shrike was the most famous magician in the world about ten years ago, when he was only about, oh, say 20 years old. He -” Emile began, only to be cut off by Damien. 

“He was a struggling magician who was trying to make a name for himself. My first show, I exposed him for the two-bit hustler he was.” Damien sighed. “To try and regain some standing, Thomas locked himself in a safe and dropped it to the bottom of the East River. He never resurfaced.” 

“The guy died in there?” he asked. 

Emile shrugged. “The safe was never recovered.” 

Damien rolled his eyes. “He attempted something he wasn’t prepared for and he paid the price. Just like you two are about to do with this ridiculous investigation.”

“Now listen -”

“Vegas was just a start,” he interrupted, “New Orleans will be to draw you in. All while setting you up for the final show.”

Remy took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. “And  _ how _ do you know their next show will be in New Orleans?”

Damien chuckled softly, steepling his fingers. “Magic.” 

“Okay, you little piece of -” 

“They handed out a flyer after the show,” he said, holding it out. “Theater, time, and date.” 

Remy grumbled as Emile stifled a snicker. “You’re gonna be a bitch about it, aren’t you?” he asked, glaring at Emile.

"I would never, Remy," Emile purred, grinning. 

Remy stuck his tongue out at his partner, who was now openly laughing at him. "Well, are you gonna tell us how they did the trick or are you just gonna keep leading us on?" 

Damien looked him up and down. "I'll do you one better. I'll show you."

With that, they headed for the stage at the MGM Grand where the Horsemen had performed the night before, and Remy tried to hide his surprise at just how huge this place looked from the stage. He couldn't imagine performing somewhere like this...

Damien gestured to the 'teleporter', which was still set up in the center of the room. "Here's your magical device." 

He scoffed. "Okay. But what about the person they robbed the bank of? They picked the seats at random..." Remy trailed off as he looked around at the people near him - Damien, his assistant, and Emile, who was laughing lightly. "Unless... it wasn't random." 

"Very good," Damien deadpanned, causing Remy to growl in frustration. "No, they made it look like it was random, but really... these magicians, they've got amazingly quick hands," he said, winking. 

"Okay, gross, man," Remy muttered. "So what next? How'd they know what bank he went to? How did they condition that specific man into coming into the country?" 

He shrugged. "I couldn't tell you how they did it, but they made him certain he needed to go to Vegas and see ths show." Damien smirked, placing a hand on Remy's shoulder. "And there is a very old and distinct way that a magician determines one's bank. Do you want to know?" 

Remy nodded, slightly confused.  

"Credit card." 

Even Emile rolled his eyes that time. "Forgive me, monsieur, but how did they manage to teleport a man into a different country?" 

"Here," Damien responded, tossing him the teleportation helmet. "Why doesn't your partner try it out for themselves? Just step into the teleporter and we'll see for ourselves how they did it."

"Me?" 

" _ Oui _ , you, you cretin. What, did you think I was going to?" Emile asked.

He glared at him. "I was hoping so, yeah. And then you'd be sent back to Paris and I wouldn't have to deal with you again!" 

Damien laughed softly, leaning against the teleporter. "Ah, sexual tension. Quite entertaining, if I do say."

"Shut up!" Remy grabbed the helmet out of his hands and shoved it on his head, ridiculously annoyed. "So? What do I do now?" 

"We pull down this screen," he narrated as he and his assistant did so, "and then, when you're ready, we'll push this button and you'll teleport to Paris." 

He bit his lip and gave them a thumbs-up, and Damien pushed the button and all of a sudden, Remy was teleported... to the floor below the stage, which was designed to look like the vault of the Parisian bank they'd robbed.

Remy rolled his eyes, taking off the helmet as Damien and Emile walked down into the 'vault'. "So what was the point of the helmet then?!" 

"My fun," he responded, smiling. 

"So, if they didn't really teleport the man to Paris, how did they rob the bank?" he asked, fixing his hair. "Did they even really rob the bank?" 

Emile, who seemed to be following along much better than Remy was, shook his head. "No. But they...  _ comment dites-vous voiture _ ... the rolly thing! They robbed the rolly thing with wheels!" 

Remy laughed out loud. "Do you mean the car?" 

"Oui." 

Damien nodded in confirmation. "Your partner is right. They robbed the transport vehicle, which is equally as hard to break into... unless, of course, you're already inside." 

"So they broke into the car, and then they stole all the money from there and created fake money to place in the 'vault'," he said, accentuating his words with air quotes. "And that's how they made off with 3.2 million euros?" 

Emile looked up at him, surprised. "You remembered the amount?"

"Well, duh." 

Damien turned away and walked off. "See you in New Orleans, then!" 

"Hey, wait -" Remy called, but he was already gone. Emile placed a tentative hand on Remy's shoulder and they locked eyes for just a moment before quickly looking away. 

"We'll figure this out," he said, his voice comforting. "I... trust you." 

Remy pulled away. "Yeah. I know." 

Roughly a week later, the Horsemen were prepping for their show on the plane, and Roman, who was always overconfident and cocky, bet Logan that he could perform mentalism better on Ira then Logan could. 

He would lie and say it was for honor, but really it was because Virgil and Logan were being a little too friendly for his tastes and Roman, the poor jealous baby, wasn't happy about it. 

"Alright, alright," Roman said, putting his fingers to his temples. "We'll start off with something easy... a family pet, maybe?" 

Ira laughed. "Have fun with that, dear." 

He grinned. "I'm picturing a very snooty cat, with a little pink bow... she had a name like Angel, or Princess... am I right or am I right?"

She shook her head. "I had a bulldog named Brutus!" 

"Okay, I screwed that up," Roman admitted amongst everyone's laughter. "Let's try that again. Um... family members, family members! Your uncle, he was very distant and you never talked... liked soccer? Named Juan, maybe?" 

"His name was Arnold Juanito, so not to far off!" she crowed, and everyone laughed some more. Roman put his hands up, defeated. "Alright, you win! You win, Logan, but don't think I'm giving you any money for that." 

Logan laughed. "Trust me, I don't think I need your twenty bucks for a bet we all knew you were going to lose." 

"Hey!" he protested, and Virgil giggled in the background. Roman's expression softened, and he slung an arm around his shoulder. "What, you think you could do better?" 

Virgil rolled his eyes. "I can read your thoughts right now. You're hoping that I'm gonna kiss you." 

"I - what - no -" Roman stuttered and Virgil laughed. "That's not true!" 

He gave Roman a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll oblige, but just this once."

When the Horsemen arrived in New Orleans, Remy and Emile were scouring the streets for a place to stay as people celebrating Mardi Gras crowded the streets. Emile was laughing and smiling and dancing, chatting in French to some of the locals and eventually wandering off to where Remy couldn't see him anymore. He ran out of the crowd, only to find Emile talking (in French, of course) to a black woman with pink hair. Remy grabbed his partner's shoulder, and Emile cursed rapidly until he realized that it was Remy who had grabbed him "Remy! I was just talking to this lovely woman, she has a room for us at her hostel." 

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Well, er. Good job. The show doesn't start until 8, so... we can head back there for a bit?" 

He nodded, still smiling. "Come on then, let's go!" 

When they reached the hostel (the arrival having been delayed several minutes by Emile dragging Remy by the hand through the festivities and Remy pretending desperately to not enjoy it) Emile set his bags down as Remy walked around until his eyes landed on the one... single... bed.

He ran his hands down his face, annoyed. "Is this a fanfiction or something?"

Emile looked over, confused. "What's wrong?" Noticing the bed, he flushed and then grinned awkwardly at Remy. "Well... which side do you want?" 

"I'll just - I can - um -" Remy stumbled over his words, finally mustering up the strength to just say, "Right." 

He nodded, still smiling his awkward smile. "Sounds good." Emile pulled a large book out of their backpack and opened it to the page he'd bookmarked. "Here. While you were sleeping on the flight, I read up on Thomas Shrike." 

Remy's eyes widened. "What did you find?" 

"He did a magic trick years ago. When the owner of a hot dog truck retired, he asked him to sign a card, and then he snapped his fingers and asked a construction worker nearby to cut a hole in a nearby tree," he said, taking a deep breath, "and when they cut it open, the card was in there, surrounded by glass." 

"And what does this have to do with our case?" Remy asked, folding his arms over his chest. 

Emile pointed to a paragraph on the next page. "He did it by asking the man, 15 years earlier, to sign a card. Thomas snuck in at night and put the card, encased in glass, in the tree. It's all about the long game, Remy." 

"So?"

"He... you know how they never found the body?" Emile asked, voice low. "What if he's playing the long game? What if there's a fifth Horseman?" 

Remy blinked a couple of times in confusion. "You really think... that's actually possible?"

"I mean... maybe it's not Thomas. Maybe it's Bradley! But..  _ c'est possible _ , no?"

He stared at Emile for a couple of seconds, then shook his head slowly. "It is... but I don't think so. I think they're just petty criminals working for a corrupt business owner." 

Emile's face fell. "Oui, you're probably right. Forgive me." 

"I'm sorry," Remy apologized. "We need to get going to the theater now..." 

They reached the theater as the show was starting, and Damien gave the two agents a friendly wave as they sat down and Remy shot him a frigid glare. 

Remy sighed and tapped the earpiece in his ear. "Joan, we got the trackers ready on May Reeves and Atlas?' 

"We do," they confirmed. "If they leave the building, we'll know where they are." 

He nodded, satisfied. "Then let the show begin."

Roman adjusted the cuffs of his blazer before Virgil walked up behind him and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "You ready?" Virge asked.

"As I'll ever be," he replied quietly, reaching his hand up to signal to Logan and Patton that it was time. "Let's go, guys!" 

As the Horsemen walked out onto the stage, the crowd cheered loudly, and the four of them laughed and waved to their adoring fans. 

"Hello, everybody!" Patton called into their mic, beaming at the people in the crowd. "You're so kind. I think we're gonna start off with some basic magic, and I think I'm supposed to leave that to Roman and Virgil here..." 

Logan and Patton backed away, leaving Roman and Virgil in the front of the stage with a box. "So," Roman began, "we're actually going to be debunking some magic tonight. Ain't that neat?"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Please never say that again. Anyways, you've all seen the magician put something in a box and make it disappear. So here's our furry friend, Lucy the Rabbit!" he said, holding up the fluffy white rabbit. "We're gonna put her in this box right here..." 

"And wave a magic wand..." Roman said, waving it around over the box before throwing it over his shoulder. "Even though it does nothing." 

The crowd laughed and Virgil smiled. "Finally, we'll say the magic word. Abracadabra!" he yelled, pulling the cloth of the box to reveal that the rabbit had disappeared. 

Roman feigned a gasp. "She's gone? How so?" 

"Well, Roman, it's simple." Virgil reached into the box and pulled out a mirror, revealing the rabbit inside the box. "There's a mirror in the box that hides the rabbit from view and makes the box appear empty. Oldest trick in the book," he replied, winking. 

Next trick was Logan's, and it was one he prided himself on quite a bit. He called up 12 volunteers to the front of the stage, and then told them, "Alright, it's time to go to sleep," with a snap of his fingers, and every single volunteer's head was down. "When I snap my fingers again, you guys will be football players and your only mission is to get the quarterback. Who's the quarterback, you ask?" Logan chuckled. "Well, you'll know because he'll be the one saying the magic word -  _ freeze _ ." 

Roman and Virgil performed one final buildup trick that involved Roman making giant bubbles and Virgil jumping into one. When the bubble broke, Roman appeared out of thin air and caught Virgil, who blushed and smiled. 

Remy was barely able to focus on anything as the final trick arrived. He was certain something was going to be stolen, but he couldn't figure out  _ what _ ...

Patton bounced back on stage and pointed at three people in the audience. "I'm going to guess the amount of money in your bank account, and definitely not steal it. I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I won't steal anything..." they trailed off, winking slyly. "You there, in the gorgeous red dress! Seriously, where did you get that? I love it! Anyway, um, I see an 8, a 5, and a 6, so that's 856 dollars, is that correct?" 

The woman nodded, amazed. "Yeah, that's it!" 

They grinned and shook their head. "Sorry, you're wrong."

Patton did this with two more people until people were angrily shouting at them to reveal why they were all wrong. They put their hands up and sighed, saying "I guess I have to show you my trick, huh?" 

Roman walked up and placed a hand on their shoulder. "See, you guys aren't all here by random. You're here because each and every one of you fell victim to the tragedy caused by our awful ICE raids and immigration policies."

Virgil joined them up at the front of the stage. "Some of you lost loved ones. Some of you lost your houses." 

Logan was the final one to join. "And when this happened, you know who didn't pay out on any of your insurance?" 

All four Horsemen pointed to their boss, Ira, and shouted, "Apellido Insurance Company!" 

"You were cheated out of thousands of dollars!" Roman yelled. "And we're here to make that right. So, check under your seats and you'll find that we have placed a card with your original bank balance, but if you shine that flashlight on it..." 

Everyone scrambled to grab the paper and the flashlight, and the woman that Patton had done a trick with earlier screamed. "I have 50,856 dollars in my account!" 

The crowd cheered as each and every one of them found that large sums of money had actually been transferred into their bank account. Ira ran to the stage, and Virgil held out a hand to stop them. 'See, Ira, we had to take the money from somewhere... but how could we have gotten into your account?" 

Logan brushed a bit of dust off the side of her jacket. "We'd need access to information we'd never be able to find." 

"Like the name of your first pet," Roman said.

"Or your mother's maiden name," Patton continued, grinning. 

Virgil frowned. "How would we ever figure that out?" 

Remy, realizing that this was all real, jumped up from his seat and ran to the stage, Emile close on his heels. "Horsemen, freeze!" 

At his words, the twelve people Logan had hypnotized before jumped up and tackled Remy, leaving Emile to have to try and figure out how to pull his partner out. 

Logan gave him a thoughtful look. "Oh, I forgot about that trick!" 

"Goodnight, New Orleans!" the four Horsemen cried out in unison, grabbing onto ropes dangling from the ceiling and being lifted away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEAVE ME KUDOS N O W

**Author's Note:**

> HOPE U LIKED IT LEAVE A COMMENT THANKS


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